


Promises Of Forever

by RussianWitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Domestic fluff murder husband style.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90
Collections: Harmony Holiday Event, Wendigo & Stag





	Promises Of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd

Hannibal’s hand curves around the back of his head warm and strong, thumb gentle where it rubs circles in the hollow at the nape of Will’s neck. 

The sea breeze caresses Will’s cheek, the gulls cry overhead, if not for the faint sounds of the market just around the stretch of land behind which they are anchored they could be the only people left alive in the world.

Hannibal’s hand is pale against Will’s tan, his fingers lovingly caressing the scar he’d left on Will’s abdomen. 

“Come to breakfast, Will,” Hannibal says nuzzling Will’s ear.

The touche should terrify Will.

Hannibal, much like a domestic cat, likes playing with his food, even if the food in question is also his--Will has never bothered to put a name to their _association_.

There are fruit and pastries along with a carafe of coffee strong enough to strip paint.

The mug on Will’s side of the small table is comically large and gaudy, it reminds Will of Josh when he’d first met Molly.

He doesn’t think of them often--can’t afford to think of them often, the past is better left in the past after all.

With a predator at his back, Will can’t afford the distraction.

“Here,” Hannibal says brushing a fat strawberry against Will’s lips. 

He bites the tip off and Hannibal smears the pinkish-red juice across Will’s mouth and cheeks.

“You could just ask me to eat raw meat,” Will muses plucking the crushed strawberry from Hannibal’s fingers.

“Would you enjoy that?” Hannibal asks with amusement. 

He pours them both coffee and holds his tongue when Will dumps milk and sugar into his mug. Hannibal is a considerate monster, one who isn’t interested in the low hanging fruit.

“Would you?” Will repeats, an image of himself lower half of his face smeared in blood as he sinks his teeth in a human heart presenting itself. Hannibal would sit across the table from him dresses impeccably in one of his pornographic suits watching attentively. 

Wondering if Hannibal is seeing the same thing Will plucks another strawberry from the bowl and leaning back to eat it messily allowing the juice to drip down his chin onto his chest.

“You’re making a mess,” Hannibal says instead dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin and draping it over his plate. 

Will closes his eyes wondering if this is the moment he’s going to feel the knife at his throat.

“How rude of me,” Will muses listening to Hannibal puttering around in the gally.

“Yes, it is,” there is amusement in Hannibal’s voice as he digs his fingers into Will’s hair tightening his grip until tears spring to Will’s eyes.

Instead of a knife, he feels teeth and lips and a hot, agile tongue cleaning up the mess and leaving marks on his skin.

Using his hair as a handle Hannibal tips Will’s chair back to get at his chest.

“How do I taste?” He pants shuddering as he feels Hannibal’s teeth scraping over his nipple.

“Combative.” Hannibal’s voice vibrates along Will’s skin.

He doesn’t want to talk, not with Hannibal’s mouth on his skin and Hannibal knows it. Grasping blindly, Will’s hands slip under Hannibal’s collar feeling for the brand scar.

The chair screeches as Hannibal straightens up forcing Will to rise with him, gets kicked aside as Hannibal hoists him up carrying him effortlessly to the bed in the bow.

The bed is already made with hospital corners and it gives Will pleasure to mess it up again.

Hannibal strips neatly, hanging up his shirts and slacks, folding his socks, mundane tasks that nonetheless fan the fire deep in Will’s belly, makes him dig his fingers into the high-thread sheets to hold on to.

Only when Hannibal is bare does he turn and the look in his eyes has Will’s mouth go dry. Fear raises the hair on his body but doesn’t lessen his arousal, not even when Hannibal crawls between his legs, a predator sizing up his prey,

“Will,” Hannibal sighs nuzzling the scars on Will’s abdomen, making love to them with his lips and tongue. His fingers make short work of the fastenings of Will’s shorts, stripping them off with economic movements.

“Will,” his name sounds like a prayer, supplication--like Hannibal is begging.

“Yesss,” he hisses, as Hannibal covers him, their bodies slotting together.

Wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, Will bares his throat again giving in to the terror racing through his veins. 

They kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, clutching at each other with brute strength leaving bruises and welts in their wake.

“Fuck!” Will pants greedily sucking down oxygen as Hannibal worries at his throat collaring him with bruises. 

Hannibal’s grin is razor-sharp as he rises, straddling Will’s thighs.

The thrill of possession, Will thinks, watching Hannibal reach for the lube, gasping when the cold, viscous liquid is dripped on his dick.

“No?” Hannibal asks with a raised brow.

His hand, spreading the rapidly warming lube, is hot on Will’s skin skilled and strong. Hanibal can easily bring him off like this looming silently and stroking.

“Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop!” Will simpers fucking up into the talented hand while batting his eyes.

“Will,” Hannibal chides leaning down to take his mouth, sinking his teeth in Will’s bottom lip.

“Fuck me!” Will growls into Hannibal’s mouth letting go of the sheets to rake his nails over Hannibal’s thighs.

“As you wish, beloved,” the monster purrs rising on his knees, behind him the shadow of the wendigo looming in the door eclipsing the friendly Caribbean sun.

Hannibal’s insides are tight, the slick not quite sufficient.

Will hisses clawing at Hannibal’s thighs, unsure if he wants to drag Hannibal down or slow his descent. 

Neither of them is unfamiliar with pain, they don’t avoid inflicting it on strangers or each other, it has its place between them, inside of them.

Hannibal throws his head back, panting as he settles in Will’s lap, silent and still but for the rocking of the boat.

“Now!” Will urges lust making it difficult to stay still. He claws at Hannibal’s chest leaving white and pink welts under the soft pelt.

His hands are caught in a grip that’s tight enough for grind bones, pinned to the bed, harnessed as their fingers intertwine.

“Will.” Hannibal husks rolling his hips in time with the waves.

Outside the gulls scream, the mast creeks and the wind whistles in the rigging. 

Hannibal says his name over and over again every time he sinks, tightens his body around Will’s dick, pleasure reverberating between them. 

Will wants to look away, close his eyes and drift on the pleasure.

He doesn’t close his eyes, looks up at Hannibal, at the amusement still playing behind his eyes, reflecting his own.

They walk through each other’s minds these days with little effort.

They feel each other’s hunger and fear.

Hannibal speeds up, sweat beading on his skin glistening in the sun.

“Will.” Hannibal’s dick curves towards his belly swaying counterpoint to the rocking of Hannibal’s hips.

The head wet magenta darkening with every unfulfilled smack against the flat abdomen.

Digging his heels into the mattress, Will thrusts up as Hannibal is sinking jolting them both into a more frantic rhythm.

The need to claim overtakes him and somehow, Hannibal is under him snarling right back, writhing on Will’s dick, groaning his pleasure softly as he digs his heels into Will’s kidneys.

“Will!” Hannibal whispers or possibly purrs bearing his throat and taking his name for the invitation it is, Will sinks his teeth into the muscle of Hannibal’s shoulder.

The taste of copper explodes on his tongue, burns through him down into his loins fills him up until his skin is too tight, his muscles cramp and he spills the whole of himself into Hannibal.

Hannibal watches him throughout through slitted, maroon eyes looking like a self-satisfied feline gasping quietly, taking everything Will gives.

Like an insatiable black hole Will shall disappear into one day. 

His jaw hurts when Will comes back to himself slumped on Hannibal’s chest, still half inside him and with Hannibal’s dick poking urgently into his belly.

“How do you feel, Will?” He sounds--composed, much to Will’s annoyance.

It’s intolerable and as lazy as Will feels, gives him the energy to shift and close his hand around Hannibal’s erection. 

“Hungry.” He whispers against Hannibal’s lips, licking into his mouth to share the taste of blood. 

The wound on Hannibal’s shoulder bleeds sluggishly staining the pillows and sheets as they kiss, devour each other in spirit.

The cabin will stink of blood for days.

“What will you do if one day I’m hungry enough--?” Will whispers against Hannibal’s lips.

“To eat my heart?” Hannibal murmurs back, thrusting up in Will’s grasp, he sounds dreamy, pleased even.

“Perhaps I’ll gut you,” Will says between kisses and nips along Hannibal’s jaw, his hand tightening on the prone man’s erection, his thumb giving the head an extra rub. “Bleed you--” 

“Like a pig?” The word trails off into a silent gasp as Will speeds up his strokes.

“Oh no, something more--exotic I think,” Will whispers against the raw, chewed shoulder, worrying at the slowly scabbing wound. “A crocodile maybe.” 

“Would that make you Captain Hook?” Hannibal wonders.

“Well, I _am_ the captain.” Will twists his hand and swallows Hannibal’s sigh of release.

Hannibal’s pleasure coats his tongue like honey as the man shudders through his orgasm.

“I could use the knife you keep behind the headboard.” Will continues. “Keep you alive to watch me eat your liver.”

Annoyingly energetic, Hannibal rolls onto Will kissing him deeply.

“One day.”

It might happen.

After everything they’ve done and tried to do to each other, it’s hard to imagine anything but mutual destruction.

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal says sprawling on most of the bed after pushing the bloody pillow off.

“You should clean the bite before it gets infected,” Will tells him, curling against his side.

Hannibal hums a confirmation but only bothers to throw a leg across Will’s hip before closing his eyes.


End file.
